I do remember this student. On the first day of class in every course I taught at the Collegium Excellens, I went seat by seat and asked that student for his/her name (and verified it on the preliminary class roll). I asked each student to supply his/her classification and this usually brought a dull stare and "Huh?" I would patiently explain that if they had less than 30 units of college credit (known as "hours" in Texas colleges and universities) on their record, they were a freshman. More than 30 meant that they were a sophomore. I pointed out that the Collegium had no juniors or seniors because the Collegium was a 2-year institution or juco. The gangsters who serve as prexies and deans at such places in Texas now prefer to define their institutions as community colleges. Some community; the campus is deserted after 12:00 PM and the school has no alma mater nor institutional traditions. There is more community in a public restroom than anyone will find in a community college. But as usual, I digress. My final question of each student on the first day he/she faced me was the ultimate stopper: "What's your major," I would ask. Terror passed over a lot of faces because those students didn't have a clue as to what "a major" meant. Most would mumble, "Undecided" or "Pending" or the best from this cohort: "General Studies." Any of these responses would set me off. I would deliver my lecture on first impressions. (See Malcom Gladwell's Blink on instant decisions.) Ultimately, I told the class that if they transferred to a respectable place and told a professor that their major was "Pending" or any of the other inane responses, that prof's instant reaction to them would be the thought that would consist of "Dumbass!" Sometimes, I was confronted with anger. Often, that student probably dropped the class upon leaving it that day. However, I believe in speaking truth to ignorance. I then would say to that student, "Do you know what to say when don't have a clue, let alone a major?" The room would fall silent. "Tell the questioner that you are majoring in LIBERAL ARTS!" Sometimes, I would hear a whine: "What about General Studies?" I would sneer in reply, "Show me any respectable college or university that offers a degree in General Studies and I will parade around campus carrying a sign reading: 'I am a dumbass!'" Much laughter. Ironically, the nearest 4-year school that received a lion's share of its transfer students from the Collegium now offers a bachelor's degree in (gag) General Studies (BGS???). However, I would not classify that joint as respectable. But, still, I digress. The student below is memorable because I remember his response even though I had this dialogue with him more than 10 years ago. Why? He responded to the question about his major by saying that he planned to major in history! That happened so seldom in my 32 years at the Collegium that it had the same impact on my life as remembering where I was when I heard that JFK had been killed. Hearing a student say that he/she was a history major was so startling that I usually uttered: "Damn! Why do you want to do that? This student offered an articulate response to my query. Obviously, he earned A's in my history classes and I never heard from him again until now. If this is (fair & balanced) amazement, so be it.
April 12, 2005
Dr. Neil Sapper
c/o Amarillo College
P.O. Box 447
Amarillo, TX 79178
Dear Dr. Sapper,
I know that you will not remember me, but I was a student in your American history classes at AC more than 10 years ago. I also know that you are completely unaware of the effect you had on me while I was in your classes. I went from AC to UT-Austin where I graduated with a degree in history. I studied the African Diaspora mostly out of a fascination with the history of the slave trade that I picked up from you. After graduation, I married, started a family, and settled in the Dallas area where I am now studying. I will graduate in May from Texas Wesleyan University with my JD.
I am writing to you because I wanted to thank you for doing what you do. You encouraged me to do more than I thought I could, even if you did so without intention. It is because you were so demanding that I learned how to achieve. There are far too few teachers like you, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you now. Throughout my lifelong education, I will always remember your challenge to be my best, and that challenge keeps me going at all times.
Let me close by simply saying thank you. I hope this letter finds you and yours well. Please accept my deepest regards.
Sincerely,
Name Withheld
Letter On File with Neil Sapper
